even if it means I'm not
by psychicchameleon
Summary: Lucia questions her son's feelings for Lt. Benson. \\ "I want her to be happy Mamí," he says, "even if it means I'm not." / Barson.
1. Chapter 1

**an: Just a short fic (two or three chapters) with a little Barson to keep people occupied while I write the next chapter for Enemy Fire. Reviews/follows/favorites really are important to me. Hope you like it!**

"Rafi," Lucia Barba said as she took a sip of her drink, "I would like to have grandchildren before I die."

Rafael finished his whiskey in one long drink.

"So," he starts, "we're having that conversation tonight."

His mother shoots him a disapproving look when he orders another drink, and grasps his arm.

"Rafael, I'm serious. You're almost forty."

He breaks into his smirking half-grin and almost laughs. "Thank you, mamí, for reminding me."

She glances around the bar. It's a cop bar that he frequents with the SVU team. The lights are dimmer than she would like—Lord knows the things that happen in Manhattan—but she's eased by the continual presence of uniformed officers.

"What ever happened to that woman, the ADA in the Brooklyn office?"

Rafael was not drunk enough to be having this talk.

"We just went for drinks a few times. It wasn't anything." She read between the lines.

"One-night flings aren't going to find you a wife, Rafael."

"Mamí!" He says, exasperated at her incessant attempts to get him to settle down with someone who will give her grandchildren.

"Rafa, you have to put yourself out there. What will happen when I'm gone? Who will take care of you?"

He groans and rubs his temples, warding off the headache that came standard with a Cuban mother.

"I can take care of myself. I'll be fine."

Lucia pauses, a new look crossing her face. "I worry about you, Rafa." Her eyes are glassy and the wrinkles in her skin cluster together in the middle of her forehead and the corners of her eyes. He sets his glass down to reach out and embrace his mother.

"You just seem so... lonely. Especially in the last few months. It breaks my heart." Wet tears dampen the mascara coating her lower lashes, and his heart clenches in his chest.

"I don't need some woman in my life to make me happy," he says, and she smiles that smile she gets when she knows something he doesn't.

"Not _just_ _some_ woman, Rafi. _The_ woman. That's who you need. I think I'm going to make one of those online profiles for you."

"Mamí, you are not putting me on eHarmony," he says, eyeing her skeptically, "or any other dating website."

She huffs a little sigh of annoyance, but she has another idea.

"How is Lieutenant Benson?"

Barba looks disdainfully at his empty cup, suddenly feeling warm in the crowded room.

"She's well, from what I can discern," he says, his words cut-and-dry, hoping she'll be satisfied and change the subject.

"She's well?" Barba's mother balks. Something is going on. "Usually she's all you ever talk about. Did something happen between the two of you?"

Rafael freezes on his stool. No, he thinks, nothing happened with Liv. Nothing that should have any bearing on his life. And yet, he can't help the tightness in his chest at the sound of her name.

"No, mamí."

Lucia is unconvinced.

"I'm not a fool, Rafael. You care for her," she says, and it's not a question. She has eyes—she's seen the way her son looks at that woman. He cared for the entire squad, that she was certain of even if he tried to hide it, but she knew he would go to hell and back for whatever Olivia asked of him.

"Of course I care for her. She's a friend," he says, but Lucia raises an eyebrow.

"You know better than to lie to your mother." The alcohol coursing through his veins and the knowing look in his mother's eyes break his resolve. He's stifled any feelings toward the Lieutenant thus far, but maybe now he can let them out and move on.

"I don't know exactly what I feel for her. I do know that I respect her, a lot, and that I care about her and Noah. She really is an amazing mother. I think about her a lot. I think I'm even starting to think _like_ her."

There it was, the admission she'd been trying to get out of her son for months. He didn't have to say he loved her—she gathered that from the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her, like she never ceased to impress him.

"Tell her that. Before I die alone."

He groans. He's not even sure how exactly he feels about her—just that the feelings are more than professional respect.

"Even if," he starts, hesitantly, "even if I did _love_ her, it doesn't matter. She's in a serious relationship with someone else."

Suddenly Lucia understands why Rafael has been distant for the past few months.

Rafael continues. "Liv deserves to be happy, above all else. She's earned that. And Tucker makes her happy. It wouldn't be fair to try and mess with that."

Lucia winces at the subtle break in his voice. She watches as he wrings his hands together under the table, trying to hold the emotion back. He's clearly hurting, but still trying to maintain composure. He doesn't want to admit even to himself how much Olivia's relationship with Tucker is affecting him.

"What about you, Rafael? You deserve to be happy too."

His eyes are red, and he's desperately becoming aware of his desire to be in his apartment and nursing an entire bottle of liquor.

"I had no business developing feelings for her. My barrier of professionalism came down and that's my fault."

He regrets telling his mother about his conflicted feelings for Olivia. It would have been much easier to bury them under layers of scotch.

"Rafael," she says softly, putting a hand over his on the bar.

"I want her to be happy, Mamí," he takes a deep breath and looks at the floor, "even if that means I'm not."

Lucia's face twists suddenly, her gaze locked on something behind him.

Barba spins, following her line of sight, and is mortified at the sight of his coworker standing, frozen, no more than three feet away.

Tbc.

 **Please review! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**an: First of all, thank you! The amount of support I got for the first chapter was mind-boggling. I LOVE everyone who has favorite/followed/reviewed this story, and I hope you guys stick with me until the end! You're all amazing. Here's the next chapter:**

Olivia Benson stood, feet glued to the floor, with two fingers pressed tightly against her lips. Barba's heart raced in his chest—his face burning with an embarrassed heat.

Amanda Rollins and Sonny Carisi stood behind their Lieutenant. They had come to celebrate the conclusion to a long interrogation, but their night had just taken a one-eighty.

Barba slapped the contents of his wallet on the counter, not bothering to count out cash or caring that he was leaving much more than he owed. He pulled his hand from his mother's grasp, nodding curtly to his colleagues.

"Detectives, Lieutenant," he greets, muttering some excuse before pushing past them and the crowd. He was vaguely aware that he had left his mother to her own defenses, but he needed to get out of the space that seemed to be shrinking. The air felt thicker, or maybe he was just forgetting to breathe.

A few moments passed as he leaned against the stone exterior of the building. People entered and exited, going about their nights unscathed by his emotional dilemma. A familiar face walked through the door, and Barba scowled as the person moved next to him.

"I'm not in the mood for one of your motivational speeches tonight. Or ever, for that matter," Barba says to the detective standing next to him. Carisi gives a half-smile.

"Do you want to talk about what just happened in there Counselor?" The lanky man motions to the door.

"No," Barba says. If it were up to him, he'd go on pretending that nothing had happened. Until Olivia eventually prodded him for answers—he'd come up with a way to deal with her later—he was going to ignore whatever it was he felt.

Carisi, not wanting to say something to upset his mentor, let the silence hang between them. Barba began feeling claustrophobic, and, reasoning that his mother would be alright without him, decided that he was going to explode if he stayed any longer.

"As fun as this has been, I'm going home. Goodnight, detective."

The detective had no rebuttal, only a look of understanding. The ADA silently thanked him.

When he reaches to put his hands in his pocket, he realizes he must have left his coat in his haste to leave. As expensive as the Burberry jacket was, and as brisk as the air felt, it wasn't enough to get him to go back inside. He resigned to walk in the cold, even though it was a relatively long one. He just hoped that by the time he got back to his apartment he would be as numb as his fingers.

Mrs. Barba sat awkwardly on her stool. Olivia Benson was still trying to gather her bearings, and Detective Rollins was unsuccessfully attempting to ease the tension.

"You must be Barba's mother," she extends her hand to the woman, "Amanda Rollins."

She had sent Carisi outside to deal with Barba, but she desperately wants him inside as a lifeline now.

She's thankful when Lucia Barba starts to speak.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Rollins. And it is good to see you again Lieutenant Benson, but I think it is about time I headed home as well. It's been a long day," she says calmly, and Amanda thinks that is an understatement.

"You two ladies enjoy your evening."

Lucia places a hand on Liv's shoulder as she makes her exit, and then disappears into the crowd. The touch leaves a burning sensation on Olivia, and her stomach drops. She wants to go outside and confront Barba, but she can't do it. Not right now. She needs a couple of drinks and to gather herself before she can go down that road.

Rollins bites her lip, trying to devise a way to comfort the woman who was her friend, but also her boss, and who was clearly affected by the conversation they'd all overheard.

"Do you, uh, want to stay?" She was perfectly flustered, because it wasn't as if _'how to deal with your boss when her ADA and friend effectively admitted he loved her_ ' was a section in the police academy.

Liv, still wordless, shook her head and took the seat that Barba had been in moments before. His jacket still hung on the back of it, and she vaguely thought that she should return it in a week or two when they would finally be able to make eye contact again. For now she'd sit, drink, and probably not smile.

"I'll have a vodka soda, please. And make it a double." Liv says, ignoring the bartender's raised eyebrow as Amanda took the seat next to her.

"Just a water, thanks," she says when the bartender cuts his attention to her. She had a feeling she needed to keep an eye on the Lieutenant tonight.

"Look, Liv, we don't have to talk about... that. But we can, if you need, and it doesn't have to be tonight, you know I'm always-" Amanda trailed off as Olivia finally spoke.

"I'm fine, Amanda. Thanks though." Liv forced a tight smile at her detective that wasn't at all believable, but Amanda raised her hands in surrender.

Carisi, finding his two companions, takes the empty seat next to his partner. Rollins shoots him an inquisitive look, and he shakes his head. She just gives a tight nod, not surprised that Barba has left, effectively avoiding hashing it out with Liv.

"You two do know that I can see you, right?"

Carisi is the first to break out of their unspoken conversation, feeling caught.

"Nothing happened tonight," Liv continues, "Really. I'm perfectly fine; you don't need to tiptoe around me."

Neither of them believes her, but they smile and nod anyway. Sonny switches the topic to a current case, and it's all business-as-usual again.

Liv finishes her first drink and another in under an hour. The knot in her chest was just beginning to loosen when Amanda offered to get her home. Olivia rolls her eyes.

"No, Rollins, I'm alright. I think I'll just take a cab." Liv stumbles a bit when she stands up, cursing herself to sober up in front of her detectives. She finally regains her balance and settles her tab. As a fleeting thought she remembers to grab the jacket on the back of her chair.

Carisi follows her out of the bar, to her annoyance, and makes sure she gets in the taxi.

"Okay, Carisi, I think I've got it from here." The detective simply smiles.

"See you on Monday," he says, and on a rushed second though adds, "Don't worry about this thing with Barba, you two will work it out."

He closes the door before she can get a word in, and the car drives away.

She settles into the seat, overwhelmed and exhausted. Her arms clutch his jacket tightly, trying to ward off all the indescribable emotions she's feeling, but her plan backfires, because it only makes them worse. She can smell him on the fabric, and it's almost as intoxicating as the alcohol in her system.

The more she sits in the taxi, the more inebriated she feels. Loneliness creeps in.

She calls him when she gets to her apartment.

"Hey, it's Liv. I know it's late, but could you come over?"

It registers in her head that he's said yes, and has hung up the phone. She goes into the kitchen to grab some water and a bagel to soak up the alcohol. Noah is sleeping soundly; Lucy must have taken the spare bedroom.

The buzzer to her apartment sounds a few moments later, and she lets him in without a second thought.

The bagel has helped to bring some clarity back, but with it comes the dull ache in her chest.

A knock reverberates on her door, and Olivia glances briefly through the peephole. Sobering horror hits quickly. She checks her cell phone, looking at her recent calls, and inwardly punches herself for being reckless and irresponsible because, God _, what has she done?_

Frantically attempting to feign calmness, she opens the door and greets her visitor.

"Hi, Barba."

 **I appreciate all comments/critiques/love, and it really helps me gauge where I want this to go and how I write my stories.**


	3. Chapter 3

**an: Here it is… the Barson confrontation! Thanks again to everyone still reading this!**

He had been hesitant to answer her call, thinking it would have taken at least a few days for her to confront him about the conversation she undoubtedly overheard. The walk to his apartment had given him a lot of time to think. While he knew he would never step between Olivia and Tucker, her phone call in the middle of the night had given him a little bit of hope. And, as much as he tried to fight it, that piece of hope seemed damn appealing.

He reached the door to her apartment, knocking, and a moment later she opened it halfway.

"Hi, Barba."

He had thought he'd be a little prepared, but words—usually so second-nature for him—failed, and all he could do was stand and stare, mute, at the woman in front of him. She stared right back.

Olivia's eyes were wide, and her heart pounding. She had meant to call Tucker—wanted him to come over so that he would hold her and tell her to calm down, that she was too strong to let something like this faze her. Maybe it was the scent of his jacket, the overwhelming worry about what she was going to say to him, the alcohol, or a combination of the three—but she had screwed up. She had typed in the wrong number, and now she had to deal with her problems.

"I, uh," she tried, unsure of what to tell him. She really wasn't ready to be having this conversation.

He was still speechless. His efforts were concentrated into just remembering how to breathe. As he watched the woman in front of him struggle to find a cohesive sentence, a woman that had seen and heard almost everything, and who was _never_ fazed, he thought she looked…surprised. Like she hadn't been expecting him.

"Look, I—I don't know what to say right now," her words were, thankfully, un-slurred. Still, she felt like an idiot standing in front of him.

"Then why'd you call, Liv?" Barba is beginning to feel impatient. He's more nervous right now than he's ever been, and her stammering has him even more shaken up.

He catches her guilty glance to the floor, her hands wrapping instinctively around herself. Her cheeks are flushed, and she has to lean against the door to support herself. Suddenly he's the one that feels stupid.

"Was this some kind of drunk dial?"

"No," she says hurriedly and unconvincingly. "I mean—I meant to call Tucker. But we can talk now, if you want." She hates how careless she sounds, but she hates the horribly hurt look on the man in front of her even more.

He feels so vulnerable. Barba would feel less mortified standing in front of a courtroom in nothing but his underwear than he does standing in front of Olivia Benson right now.

"No, I don't want to talk. I'll just go, and you can call Tucker and just forget anything ever happened." The words are harsher than he wants, but the anger is the only thing keeping him from breaking down.

He's about to walk away when she stops him.

"You can't be mad at me," she says, her hands moving defensively to her hips as she stands up straighter against the doorframe.

He cocks his head, not expecting to fight with her tonight.

"I left my apartment against my better judgment because I thought I owed you an explanation, all because you're too drunk to remember a stupid phone number?"

Her eyebrows furrow together as she feels blood rush to her face. "I made a mistake, okay? I've been under a lot of stress tonight."

He scoffs. "And you don't think I have?"

His mask of rage is slowly revealing the underlying hurt, but he desperately tries to keep up the front.

" _You_ blindsided _me_. This is your fault," she says, because placing the blame on him and staying angry is the only way to stop the raw aching threatening to break through her voice.

"How long did you listen in on that conversation, Liv? You could have stopped me anytime you wanted. Why didn't you?" Barba's eyes are red, his words strained.

She looks away from him, pondering his question. Why did she listen to the entire conversation without stopping him? Olivia was pretty sure she would've heard even more if Carisi and Rollins hadn't come up to her and caught Lucia's attention.

"I didn't mean to let you keep talking… I just froze. I didn't know what to say—I still don't know what to say."

Liv feels her anger quickly dissolve as the knot in her chest quickly works its way to the surface.

"Are you?" She asks after a few seconds of silence, and he briefly wonders if he's zoned out on a whole monologue.

"Am I what?" Barba looks at her, at the tentative gentleness on her face.

"Unhappy?"

He tenses. Maybe he is, but he meant what he said earlier, and he would lie to her if that would make her feel better. And, he thinks, maybe he wasn't unhappy after all.

"No, Liv. I have a terribly overbearing, but well-meaning mother, my dream job, and friends I don't deserve—including you. How could I be unhappy with that?"

She still seems skeptical.

"When I was talking to my mother, she was on my case about finding _the_ woman. I'd been drinking and I was feeling pressured and I just started saying things. I've thought a lot about it, and I love being your friend, Liv."

Her arms release themselves from her abdomen to wrap around him, and he doesn't know how to respond right away, but his arms eventually wrap around her frame.

It's a foreign gesture for both of them: slightly awkward, but not entirely uncomfortable. She can feel his heartbeat, and it's making her own heart race so she has to let go.

"I should go," he says, disentangling himself from her embrace. She watches him until he gets to the stairs, and then she closes the door.

Her mind wanders to Tucker for a minute, but she doesn't want to have to explain to him why she's such a mess.

No, she needs to be alone tonight.

tbc.

 **Was that not the most disappointing thing? Did you think they were going to get together? Reviews, please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Ye of little faith… trust me. Barba and Liv will get together, but when the moment is right. But, I stress, THEY WILL GET TOGETHER.**

It had been three days since his visit to her apartment.

He hadn't necessarily been avoiding Liv, but he also didn't go out of his way to see her. Barba figured they could both benefit from some space.

It seemed that Murphy's Law was in effect for every piece of the trial he was prepping for. His two witnesses were a prostitute and a drug dealer, and his case was largely based on circumstantial evidence. There were two surviving victims, but neither could pick the defendant out of a lineup. The best piece of evidence he had—a DNA sample the M.E. had managed to pull—was only a partial hit, and he knew Buchanan would tear it to shreds with his lineup of expert witnesses.

He _knew_ the defendant was guilty—there was not a doubt in his mind.

When, Barba thought, did he become so one-sided? He used to push the law to its limits, loving the challenge of trying a case that relied almost entirely on his persuasiveness and legal strategy.

Now, he was terrified to try the case. This man had killed three women, and he had assaulted two more. Seeing the dejected look on a victim's face as their attacker walked destroyed him. The thought of losing twisted his stomach. He no longer trusted the law—not since joining SVU.

He took a sip of his coffee, scowling when he realized it was cold.

"Great," he mutters, pushing it to the edge of his desk.

The trial was scheduled for the next day, and he was positively stuck. Nerves were getting the better of him.

On an impulse, he picked up the phone and dialed.

\\\

Olivia had gone to watch the summation of the trial. Her team had come up short on forensic evidence, but she had confidence in Barba.

She hadn't been talking to him lately, but she wasn't going to let a minor bump in their friendship stop her from showing her support.

As he gave his closing argument, Liv felt the hair on her skin rise. The jurors were leaning in to his every word. She loved watching his summations; the emotion in his words and in his demeanor had become so pronounced in the last few years that it was entrancing.

There was stubble on his face, and he had stripped off his suit jacket to reveal his perfectly white shirt and navy suspenders. In the courtroom he had a rawness that was rare and endearing—something she only saw when he was divested in a case or when he was interviewing witnesses. Moments like that showed how much he had begun to care about the victims he fought for. It made her breath hitch.

Barba looked back at her as he took his seat, and she realized she had been staring. Shaking herself from her reverie, she gave an imperceptible nod. She smiled when he did the same.

\\\

"The jury has been out for hours," he says, pacing back and forth outside the courthouse. It's the first time they've talked face-to-face in days, and she's glad that it feels normal again.

The happiness, however, is short-lived. Her colleague is about to rip the hair out of his head.

"You said all the right things, Barba. They know he's guilty. Trust me," she says.

He looks into her piercing eyes and knows that he trusts her, probably more than he should.

His phone buzzes, and Barba pales.

"Jury's back."

She can see his face fall from ten feet away as the jury announces their not-guilty verdict. Barba bites his tongue as the defendant embraces Buchanan with a smug smile across his face.

His suspenders feel like they've gotten tighter. He can't breathe. Barba knows she's staring at him, wondering if he's alright, but he can't deal with Liv or anyone right now.

She sees him move out of the courtroom, head down, and knows he's retreating to his office. He wants to be alone, and she isn't about to intrude. She's caused him enough problems this week.

Olivia decides to let him work through things on his own time.

\\\

He tells Carmen to clear his meetings for the rest of the day, and she doesn't prod him further. Barba closes the door to his office once he's safely inside. He sinks into the couch. The job, it's become too much. She's made him care, and it's tearing him apart.

Barba can't even muster the energy to pour himself a drink, so he just sits there, thinking he must have done something wrong to someone, somewhere. He hurts—for himself, for the victims that won't get justice, for everything.

An hour passes and he still doesn't move. It isn't until his phone rings that he gathers himself enough to stand up.

"Barba, your assistant told me to leave a message, but I finally got her to put me through," the familiar female voice says.

"I heard about the case," she continues after he doesn't respond. He still doesn't speak.

"Look, Rafael, I'm sorry. I know this case meant a lot to you," she says, treading carefully.

"I miss Brooklyn," he says, finally able to articulate.

"No, you don't. You're just upset." Barba _is_ upset, but it's true. He misses his old job.

"This is killing me, Nat." Gone were the days of case numbers instead of faces, the days when he was more interested in new legislation than caring for a victim.

She pauses, trying to figure how best to comfort the man who had left her office years ago.

"Well, how about I indulge your nostalgia for a night, and we can get a drink. Like old times."

A part of him feels like this is a bad idea, but he's desperate for anything to yank the images of the crime scenes from his head.

"I'll meet you there."

\\\

Olivia had gotten home before five o'clock, a rare occurrence. She let Lucy off early and savored the extra time with her son.

Her plan was to call Tucker and order a pizza for a lazy night in. The problem was that she couldn't stop thinking about Barba. She was worried about him, and while she thought she was doing the right thing at the time, now she wonders if she should have let Barba go home alone.

Noah makes a squealing sound, and it instantly brings a smile to her face. She loves that little boy.

He comes running around the corner, drowning in a jacket that is several sizes too big for him.

Olivia is puzzled for a second and then remembers: she never returned Barba's coat. An idea strikes.

"Noah, sweetie, how about we go grab some ice cream and then visit Mr. Barba?" He smiles in delight, hooked at 'ice cream'.

Liv bundles him up, grabbing a bottle of scotch she had purchased for him from her pantry. She'd bought it a few days ago, and expensive peace offering for whenever the time was right.

The doorman at his apartment doesn't even bother to look up at her, and she and Noah walk in unquestioned. Olivia starts to muse that guys like him don't help to lower Manhattan's excessively high crime rate, but she stops herself. Her mind is on Barba tonight.

\\\

Drinks at his old favorite bar brought back a wave of memories. He felt younger and lighter somehow, and he hadn't realized how much he's missed Natalie.

Barba had asked her opinion on a couple of cases, including the one he'd just lost, but he'd never reached back into their personal relationship. As he laughed and reminisced with his former colleague and friend, he couldn't for the life of him imagine why.

He had forgotten how piercing her green eyes were. Somehow, it seemed that she'd hardly aged at all. Her hair was loose, the way she wore it when she didn't want to be an ADA anymore.

Already a few drinks in, her arm was slung lazily around his shoulder, and he leaned into her touch.

"So, are we going to take this back to your apartment for old times' sake?"

He checked his watch. It was still pretty early, only around nine o' clock, but he was tipsy enough to want to take her up on the offer. Still, something felt like it was holding him back.

"Come on Barba. It can't be past your bedtime already."

Whether it was the nostalgia or the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, he wasn't sure, but he found his lips pressed against hers in his apartment thirty minutes later.

They had been involved toward the end of his time in Brooklyn, and it was part of the reason he'd left. Now, he reasoned, it was no longer unprofessional.

"I brought you something," she says, pulling away for a second. Amy moves to grab her purse, and extracts a bottle of bourbon.

"It's your old favorite, remember?" And he does remember. He remembers the nights they spent in the others' offices poring over files and sipping bourbon until the case numbers melded together.

She searches his kitchen for two glasses, finally finding them and pouring them a quarter-full with the amber liquid.

"To old friends," she says, touching her glass to his. He nods, and downs the drink. It's sweeter than the scotch he's used to drinking now, but he doesn't ponder that thought for long because her lips are on his again.

Minutes or hours later-he doesn't really know-the doorbell sounds. She pulls away, releasing him to answer it.

Annoyed, he trods through the kitchen to get to the source of the interruption and nearly falls over when he opens the door.

"Liv, what are you doing here?" He asks, suddenly feeling nervous.

She mistakes his unusual demeanor as him being upset, and gives a caring smile.

"Noah and I thought we'd drop by to give your jacket back from a few nights ago," she says as Noah peeks out from behind her legs.

"And," she starts, hesitantly, "I brought this. Noah knew it was your favorite. I thought we'd try to... cheer you up." She pulls the bottle of scotch from a bag, and he smiles at the thoughtfulness of her gesture.

However, he's snapped back into reality when he remembers there is another woman in his apartment.

"Liv," he says, before his eyes shift to the little boy, "And Noah. Thank you." He grins at the child, eliciting a smile in return. But as he looks up at Liv, his expression falters.

"It means a lot, it really does," he says and she breaks into a grin.

"But, uh-" He feels like an ass.

Liv senses that something is wrong. All at once she notices the uneven buttoning of his always impeccable dress shirt, and the way his hair is tousled, and the faint redness on his lips.

"Oh," she says when she realizes what she's interrupted. "I'm sorry, Barba, I should've called. I'm-"

Her face is hot and she can't seem to find words, so she quickly shoves the bottle of scotch and the jacket in his hands and gathers Noah in her arms.

"Liv," he says, but her chest is inexplicably tight and she needs to leave.

"I've got to get Noah to bed, but I'll see you at work?" She says, not waiting for an answer before nodding to herself and power-walking down the hallway.

He almost runs after her and explains himself, but it occurs to him that there's nothing to explain.

That doesn't stop his heart from dropping or his skin from blanching as he lets her go.

Tbc.

 **I'm so excited for the next chapter, like you don't even know. Reviews, please!**


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